A Holy Soul Who Lost His Family But Never Lost Hope

Rabbi Yekutiel Yehuda Halberstam, the Admor (spiritual leader) of Sanz-Klausenburg, was born in Galicia in 1904. From a young age, he poured his extraordinary gifts into Torah learning.

Even as a little boy, Rabbi Yekutiel Yehuda showed remarkable kindness. Years later, he recalled, “As a child, whenever I brought three pastries with me to cheder (Jewish school), I would give two of them to a classmate from a poor home and keep just one for myself. If I only had one, I would give it away entirely and go without—how could I eat when my friend had nothing?” He explained that this deep compassion was something his parents nurtured in him from birth. “That was simply how children were raised in every Jewish home in those days.”

When the Nazis entered Klausenburg, Rabbi Halberstam endured unimaginable suffering. On the same day he arrived at Auschwitz with his wife and eleven children, ten of them were murdered. He was sent to forced labor and barely survived. When people later asked how he managed to live through such agony, he simply said, “I lost my entire family. I lost everything—but I didn’t lose Hashem.”

Even in those dark times, his behavior remained extraordinary. Despite deep sorrow, he never stopped learning Torah, praying, and caring for others. A fellow survivor from the ghetto testified that even under the most severe hunger, the Rebbe would never eat non-kosher food. He found ways to put on tefillin (phylacteries) each day, organized minyanim (public prayer), and refused to let the Nazis cut his beard with a razor—something strictly forbidden by Jewish law.

He worked hard to avoid breaking Shabbat, even under great risk. At the same time, he never let anyone else do his work for him.

His noble and defiant behavior often brought harsher treatment. The Nazis beat him terribly. Yet even then, he would whisper verses like “Hashem is righteous, for I have rebelled against His word” or “May my death be an atonement.” Sometimes he would quietly say, “Because you did not serve Hashem with joy…” Over time, even some of the camp enforcers began to treat him with a strange respect, seeing him as a holy man.

He once shared that during that awful period, he was walking in wooden shoes and came across a shoe with a leather sole. When he picked it up, he realized it was made from a piece of tefillin parchment, with the words: “Take heed lest your heart be deceived…” He burst into tears. “I was so broken over this desecration of holiness, and I was also frightened by the message Heaven was sending me…”

When the American soldiers arrived and began to liberate the camps, offering food to the starving prisoners, he was the only one who asked for kosher food—because they were Jews.

With unimaginable strength, Rabbi Halberstam began to rebuild. He breathed hope into fellow survivors and created a network of yeshivas (Torah academies) for boys and girls, which he named “She’erit HaPleita”—The Surviving Remnant.

He remarried and had seven children. With his own hands, he brought the Sanz Hasidic dynasty back to life—almost entirely wiped out in the Holocaust.

After the war, he moved to the United States, and in 1960, he made aliyah (immigrated) to Israel. There, he founded Kiryat Sanz in Netanya. Inspired by his vision, his Hasidim built more Kiryat Sanz communities, schools, and Torah centers in cities like Jerusalem, Bnei Brak, Haifa, Tiberias, and Safed.

One of his most remarkable achievements was founding Laniado Hospital—a place of healing for everyone, rooted in Torah values. He also opened a nursing school and institutions for orphans. At the hospital’s opening, he told the staff: “I want this hospital not only to keep Shabbat and be strictly kosher, and not only to hire excellent doctors—but most of all, I want every worker here to have a warm Jewish heart. To love the patient. To heal with compassion, not just treat a disease.”

He often explained the inspiration for the hospital with a personal memory from the Holocaust. “I was shot in the hand and too afraid to go to the Nazi-run clinic. I knew I wouldn’t come out alive. So I took a leaf from a tree, pressed it on the wound to stop the bleeding, and used a branch to hold it in place. Hashem helped me, and after three days, I recovered. I promised myself then: if Hashem lets me live and escape, I’ll build a hospital where doctors and nurses believe in God—and understand that healing a patient is the greatest mitzvah (commandment).”

One Friday night, during Shabbat, word spread in the Sanz synagogue that a young woman needed a rare blood type to survive. The Rebbe’s followers left their meals and prayers and rushed to the hospital to donate blood.

When he spoke to yeshiva students, he stressed the importance of honoring parents and teachers. “This is the key to truly acquiring Torah,” he would say. And another time: “My request is not only that you learn the Talmud—but that the Talmud should teach you.”

He once reflected that if he could point to any one merit that helped him survive and rebuild, it was this: “Even in the darkest moments, I never brought complaints to Heaven. Every wave that passed over me—I accepted with love.”

Rabbi Yekutiel Yehuda Halberstam passed away in Kiryat Sanz in Netanya on a holy Shabbat night—the 9th of Tammuz, 5754 (1994). May his memory be a blessing.